I want to write your name 1,000,000 times
on a chalkboard and then erase it and bang
the erasers and breath in the cloud and
suffocate ok?
actually I want to curbstomp you and lick
your blood off the cement and collect as many
of your teeth as I can and make a bracelet
                                              (I want to be your love, I want to make you cry)
actually I want to kiss every inch of your body kiss I mean bite
I want to tear you to shreds
actually I want to cut your chest open and crawl inside and
vibrate with your heartbeat and force you to hold me
                                     (I want you inside of me)
actually I want to call you out on a white lie in front of all your friends
                                                   (I want to be your only friend)
actually I want to read you conspiracy theories right before you go to sleep
and fill your dreams with paranoia
                                     (I want to kiss your eyelids)
actually I want to cut the brakes in your car and I want to be the one driving us
100 mph towards a cliff
actually I want to put bleach in your morning coffee and I want to force
you to drink it
actually I want to empty your bank account and live out my days alone
somewhere warm, alone
actually I want to give you all the pleasure in the world, all the pleasure a
human man could experience and then I want to castrate you
actually I want to tell you elaborate lies about my childhood
actually I want to write you books
actually I want to make you feel adored
actually I want to make up my mind about you
actually I want to paint your nails and cut your hands off
and use your fingers to display my ring collection
actually I want you to notice me   (please)

Also: I feel ******* sick. Not physically. Although: sometimes the pit in my stomach feels like the point of this lose's impact.

Actually:  this feels incredibly age appropriate.

Also: I don't define myself by what I don't like. People know what I like. And that's love and poetry and lipy kisses and the final season of Girls and volunteering.

Actually:  when you said the word "actually" after anything positive or interesting, it made me feel like you defined yourself by what you didn't like and since we met, things got so good for you that you were pleasantly surprised by a constant string of nice things you started to see again (or maybe only started seeing for the first time).

Also: now that it's over, I wonder how often you say "actually."

Actually: I'm half freaked half stoked to see you Friday night.

Also: I keep searching for the perfect song to send to you that communicates exactly how I feel; mainly because we aren't talking right now and I've gotten so used to secretly coded  artistic messaging doing all of my talking for me. Something by Lucy Rose, I think.

Actually: I'm afraid to reach out too soon because I don't want to admit I want you and also I don't want to give you false hope.

Also: I think about you constantly. And also you constantly.

Actually: I killed it way too soon and started something new so fast that my head is spinning and all I really want is to say sorry to your bottom lip for my absence.

Also: I feel immense guilt.

Actually: that bottom lip I want to apologize to for my absence, I also need to apologize to for making stick out when your face was that red and your cheeks that wet. Because making you cry. Those eyes. Those sounds. ****! I'm sorry I ever made you cry. I'm so sorry. Please never cry. Never cry. Please.

Also:  I don't ever want the cotton of my shoulder to be so saturated.

Actually: I made a decision based on my gut that had me sure of myself for the 3 weeks leading to my birthday and now 2 weeks since my birthday, I can't find the security in my gut.

Also: 30 doesn't feel more secure at all.

Actually: I need space but I haven't been able to count on myself to create it.

Also: I'm super worried these feelings won't die because, even though I both do and don't want them to, I know they need to to make these feelings grow.

Actually: I know I said I was up for the gamble. And we really just might win it all. But I might also lose it all.

Also: I think I'm exactly where I am supposed to be in my socialization.

Actually: **** makes me paranoid and ***** makes me feel fat but sleep and cardio and water and caffeine make me feel ******* good.

Also: not a huge fan of raw fish that isn't tuna. Also: **** seaweed salad.

Actually: I just want to be the best version of myself. Character matters. I'm gaining experience. I want **** to be easy. It's not and won't be. And that's fine. I just don't want to hurt anyone. I want to search and feel and taste and

Make love
love
love.

Actually,
I'm not too bad.
Actually,
I'm pretty great.
Actually,
I'd hate myself.
Actually,
What could you really hate?
Actually,
I wouldn't be anything if I were missing anything.
Actually,
I wouldn't be anyone if I were missing anyone.
Actually,
I'm good.
Actually,
I'm great.
Actually,
I'm not that bad,
Actually,
I'm no saint.
Actually,
I can be me.
Actually,
I can and am
Actually,
I'd never want to be the same.
Because...
Being a robot would be such a shame.